Epilogue: Connection
by Sightshadis
Summary: The night after the funeral, Max is checking her phone when she notices a series of texts that she's sure never happened... Spoilers for Ep. 5.


**I've been reading fics on this site for years, but I never imagined I'd actually write one. This is based on a dream I had the night I finished playing Episode 5. Maybe it was my subconscious trying to reconcile two bittersweet endings into something a bit happier. Or maybe I've just been watching too much Rick and Morty.**

 **Either way, I hope you like it.**

 **I don't own Life is Strange, Dontnod does. I can own a headcanon though, right?**

* * *

 _Epilogue: Connection_

The evening of October 11, 2013, it started to rain. It wasn't going to be a world-ending hurricane, or even a strong enough storm to turn the tree leaves over. It was a drizzle, but it was enough to dampen the already somber mood at Blackwell Academy.

Max Caulfield had been tucked away in her dorm room for the past several hours, trying to keep her spirits up. They had buried Chloe that afternoon, and as much as Max promised herself she wouldn't cry, she always seemed to be on the verge of failing. It had been a beautiful funeral, but it had hit hard. Chloe Price had been _everything_ to Max – a friend, a partner, and a confidant all-in-one. Plus, despite her shortcomings, she was one of the few truly good people Max knew. She had just wanted to keep the girl safe, but when time and space are jostling for a sacrifice at every turn, and thousands of lives are on the line, what else can you do but _let go?_

She knew in her heart that she'd made the right choice, but something inside her just felt… incomplete. Like a photo with a tear down the middle.

Now, Max was just tired. Not sleepy – she'd barely slept all week. Just… weary. She felt like she had lived through a year in the past week, (and if one felt like adding up all the time she'd rewinded, she just might've). She had too much on her mind to sleep, so instead she stayed up and let the hours roll by.

Sometime past midnight, her phone lit up with a new text. Reflexively, Max reached over and grabbed the device. _"I wonder what this one is,"_ she thought idly. _"More condolences from Warren or Kate, or another one of Principal Wells' new automated safety PSAs?"_ The students had been getting a lot of those this last  
week.

The text had indeed been from Kate. Nothing special, just scheduling a tea date, but now the phone was in Max's hand and she needed something to occupy her mind. She began to thumb through the texts she'd received this past week. _"Warren, Victoria, Alyssa…"_ She read the names off. Suddenly she remembered the vivid nightmare she'd had a week earlier, during the storm. _"No texts from Pompidou or Samuel this time, that's good."_

But just as Max was about to laugh that thought off, she saw a name in the list that sent her heart straight to her throat and made her blood run cold.

 _Chloe._

" _What the hell?"_ Max tried to puzzle it out in her mind. _"I never even spoke to her in this reality. She… She died before she even knew I was back in Arcadia Bay."_

Fingers trembling, she selected Chloe's name from the list.

There were a lot of texts, and Max recognized them all. They were the same messages the two girls had sent back and forth during their week together. The week that had been erased. Max barely had time to think before she reached the end, and her thoughts were swallowed up by a slow, dawning dread.

Five simple texts, sent that evening, not five hours ago.

 **Chloe:** _Oh, and get something to drink while you're out. I forgot to mention but we'll probably need it._

 **Max:** _Lemonade? :P_

 **Chloe:** _No emoji. And not lemonade either, you know what I mean._

 **Max:** _I'm only 18, you know. I can't buy booze._

 **Chloe:** _Max Caulfield finds a way. I believe in you._

What. The. Hell. Not only had the very dead Chloe Price been texting her, but she'd been texting _back_? Max was sure she hadn't, but she was also sure nobody had sabotaged her phone while she wasn't looking. She flipped back and looked through her contact list. Sure enough, Chloe was on speed dial.

Sighing internally for the millionth time that week, Max pushed the "call" button. There was only one way this was getting solved.

One ring. Two rings. Three… And then a very drowsy Chloe Price.

"Chloe?!" Max practically shouted into the phone. "Where are you? I thought you were dead! How are you not dead?!"

The next few seconds passed in total silence, followed by a somewhat-amazed, somewhat-exasperated utterance of " _holy shit."_

There was a bit of shuffling, and then Chloe was asking questions. "Where are you, Max? You're saying I died? What the hell happened? When was the last time you saw me?"

"Last Monday, when Nathan shot you," Max replied, "and before that, on the cliff by the lighthouse. We said goodbye, and then I rewinded into the photograph!"

More silence, more shuffling, and then, "that never happened, Max. We ripped up that photo and bailed on Arcadia Bay, together. I'm at a motel near the state line."

Max was stunned, but her friend continued, "but I believe you. I know you're not just pulling some bullshit prank on me because… you're in bed sleeping here right next to me."

That was the revelation that nearly broke Max. She stumbled over her words, trying to find the right questions. "I'm… with you? I'm sorry Chloe, but how can I be there if…"

She had another thought. "Wait, did you just say we're in the same bed?"

Even over the phone, Chloe's smirk was palpable. "Things, uh, kinda happened between us when we were sheltering in the lighthouse. Some feelings came out, and…"

Max was a little taken aback at that, but not very much. She couldn't deny she'd had some… thoughts about her best friend. (Hell, they'd even kissed once!) Still, she was surprised that this other version of her had actually gone through with it.

She had to ask. "Did… did I enjoy it? I mean…" she fumbled, "did _you_ enjoy it?

Chloe just laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound Max had ever heard.

* * *

A few minutes later, and the call was on speaker. Chloe had managed to rouse the other Max from her slumber, and together the three girls were trying to suss out an explanation.

They'd concluded that their fateful decision at the lighthouse that day had somehow… split the timeline. That part was easy enough to figure out. The tricky bit was that, _somehow,_ the two versions of Max had both ended up with the _same phone._ They'd spent several minutes testing, twiddling, and shuffling around apps, and it seemed to simply be the same smartphone, but in two realities. There was no explanation. Chloe was willing to chalk it up to "a glitch in the system or something," but Max was getting nervous.

She'd seen the threads of time come undone. She'd lived it, and it had nearly killed her. It had nearly killed _everyone_ , and it _had_ killed Chloe. (Hadn't it?) What if this was just one more thing that was _wrong?_ What if this small spark was enough to set the prairie alight again? What if this all ended with another storm, or worse?

They were all thinking it, and no one said anything for a long while.

"I need to get rid of it," Max finally said, breaking the silence. It hurt to even think about. She'd lost Chloe so many times now. Even if her best friend was alive and happy somewhere – with her, no less - the thought of losing her _again,_ after she'd _already tried so hard to say goodbye_ , made her feel like throwing up.

She heard her own voice speak up over the phone. "She's right. I mean, I'm right. It's too dangerous, Chloe. This time it isn't just me, it's both of us. If we start… talking to other timelines, who knows what might happen? Tomorrow morning, we'll throw the phone away."

A second of silence, and then...

"Like hell we will." That was Chloe - she hadn't said much the past few minutes, but now her voice flared with determination. "I need this! I need to talk to my mom again. I need to tell her that I didn't die, that I'm safe, that Nathan didn't fucking kill me for real. And… and…" She trailed off.

"…I gotta tell stepdouche... I mean, I have to tell David... thanks."

"Chloe…" the other Max urged.

"Listen Max," the blue-haired girl began again. "We did it, we _won_! We tricked time, and we beat death! I thought everyone was gone, but _here's a phone call from another you, proving that they aren't!"_ Your nose isn't bleeding, and I didn't see any dead birds, or whales, or what-the-fuck-ever on the way here. Can I just… have this? Please?"

Listening to Chloe, the realization began to dawn on Max. This past week had been sad, but normal – no eclipse, no snow, one moon. She felt fine too. Could she hope? Maybe the universe _had_ simply forgotten her phone, or maybe whatever higher power was behind all this had left it there on purpose? She smiled at that, and her friend's words began to lift her spirits.

The storm had passed (it had never happened at all); Max had lost her rewind powers (she had never gotten them in the first place). _Somewhere_ , Chloe was alive. _Somewhere_ , Arcadia Bay was safe. And _somehow,_ each version of Max Caulfield had a window through to a world where the things she regretted hadn't happened.

Like halves of a torn photo, the two pieces made a whole.

"…I'll keep you on speed dial," Max suggested.

Her other self murmured something in agreement – she had evidently come to the same decision. She knew herself, after all, and in any timeline, Chloe would always win an argument.

"Great," she heard Chloe say. "We've got a new secret. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm hella tired and we've got a long drive tomorrow if we want to make San Francisco by sundown. See you later, Mad Max."

Sitting up, Max smiled, but feigned insult. "You guys are the ones in the post-apocalypse. Don't you think you should save that nickname for _your_ Max?"

In the same tone, her other self snapped back, "You _cannot_ just palm that name off on me! I will get you for this!"

Now it was Chloe's turn to act indignant. "All this time, I thought you _liked_ that nickname!"

There was only laughter on the other end, so Max chuckled and quietly ended the call. With tired legs, she stood up and stumbled over to her bed. As she shut her eyes, she had a feeling she wouldn't have any trouble going to sleep.

Time was weird. Life was strange. She didn't need to think about it.

Everything was going to be okay.


End file.
